Tangled
by Min Daae
Summary: Wilhelmina feels a little alone, a little lost, and very lonely. A few questions get answered, a few fears laid to rest, and Wilhelmina is generally pathetic and adorable. ONESHOT. A little of everything.


Wilhelmina wandered despondently.

Jaenelle was busy, and besides, she was different now – sometimes Wilhelmina found herself selfishly wishing for the sister she knew, the one who was shy and quiet and friendless, back when it had been just them. But then, she thought, that wasn't true. Jaenelle had always had a family that meant more to her than one flighty, nervous older sister.

She didn't belong here. She didn't feel right among these witches – real witches, not the pale shadows she knew from home. Karla and Morghann and Gabrielle scared her with their fierce boldness that Wilhelmina could not hope to match; and though Kalush seemed nice, Aaron frightened her with his wary gray eyes and barely sheathed temper. It would have been nice to see Daemon, but even he was different. And of course, there was Lucivar Yaslana. It was as though she had "Terreille" stamped on her forehead; or "avoid me" branded across her face. But more than anything, she was terrified that they would send her back.

She wouldn't go!

Lady, what are you doing?

Wilhelmina jumped and yelped, looking for the owner of that voice. Something was strange about it, but she couldn't decide what. She found herself in a lush indoor garden, verdantly green, the soft sound of water over stone the only movement until something twitched at the corner of her eye. She turned quickly to apologize for intruding, and had to stifle a scream.

Her first thought was that he was enormous. He sprawled on the flagstone under a red-berried bush, lashing his tail and staring at her with curiously intelligent eyes.

Yes? The voice was edged with rich amusement, and this time the source was clear. The tiger was talking to her.

She sat down hard, and just stared, feeling a strong and rather dangerous urge to laugh.

I will not eat you. You are one of the Lady's humans.

The Lady? Oh. Jaenelle. Wilhelmina drew a hand across her brow, feeling dizzy. "Er – thank you," she managed faintly.

"Wilhelmina?" Relief flooded her, turning her rubbery knees to mush and making it extremely unlikely that she would get up anytime soon. A human voice. Thank the –

Lucivar Yaslana closed the door to the indoor garden with a resounding and final click. She wondered if anyone would come if she scream – even if they hear her. May the Darkness be merciful. A soft whimper not unlike a sick kitten escaped before she clamped her lips shut.

"Wilhel – oh, there you are." He frowned and she cringed. "Why are you on the floor?"

Was he angry? What should she do? Should she apologize? She shook her head, then nodded, then pointed at the tiger, wordlessly. She thought Lucivar's mouth might have twitched a little.

"Ah. I see you've met Dejaal," he said in a suspiciously bland voice.

"Dejaal? He has a –" That struck her as impolite. She tried to get up and curtsey, but that was quite beyond her. She sufficed with a bowed hear and a murmured, "m'honored."

Again she imagined Lucivar's mouth twitched, but sure that was her imagination. Lucivar Yaslana was not a creature of amusement.

"Dejaal, might Wilhelmina and I speak without the constant supervision?"

Someone has to keep an eye on her. You already have a witch to watch.

She was quite certain she didn't imagine the sudden choking sound Yaslana made.

"Dejaal," he said in a slightly pained voice before throwing a sideways glance at her and falling silent. It was clear, however, from the tiger's confused expression, that there was still a conversation going on.

She began to feel a bit grumpy, and was on the point of opening her mouth to say something, when two male pairs of eyes turned to her. She closed her mouth and swallowed, the brief burst of courage evaporating.

Good afternoon, Lady, Dejaal said, solemnly, examining her with his unnervingly intelligent eyes. If Yas is bothering you, yell and I will tackle him for you.

"Dejaal, _out_," Lucivar said sternly, and his batlike wings flared, but she could feel his amusement, and the urge to crawl under the nearby bench lessened. The tiger got up, padded to the door, and jumped through the wall as though it were made of water. As soon as the tip of his tail vanished, Lucivar looked back at her.

He frowned again, and she winced. "You're still on the floor," he said, as if surprised.

"I…am," Wilhelmina agreed weakly.

She was sure she imagined the brief flash in his eyes. Why would Lucivar Yaslana be concerned for her? "Let me help you up."

She found herself upright. His hands were very strong and warm, calloused from hard work. She remembered, unbidden, the stories she'd heard about Yaslana – witches torn apart, horribly mutilated if they were unlucky enough to survive him. _That's what they said about Daemon, too_, a treacherous voice whispered. _Will you believe them or Jaenelle? _Still, she pulled away as quickly as she dared. H let go of her hands and stepped back, his distance respectful, a little wary and something else. But surely it wasn't what she thought it was. Yaslana nervous around her? The very idea was laughable.

"Thank you," she murmured, belatedly.

"You're welcome." He sounded amused again. Why was he amused? "Exploring the Hall, I see?"

"I didn't know I wasn't supposed to!" She burst out, wringing her hands. "I just – wanted –to go …" She trailed off. Lucivar had his head tilted to the side and was scrutinizing her in what could only be a suspicious manner. She quailed.

"What's the matter?" He asked in a mildly dangerous voice.

"It's nothing," she hastened to assure him, "Really nothing, I was just – didn't want to intrude – I'll go now, I'm sorry," she said and started to get up.

"Stay where you are!" he bellowed. She stayed. Lucivar looked at her narrowly.

"Who told you you can't come here?"

Wilhelmina shook her head and tried to unglue her jaw. "No one," she squeaked. "I just thought –"

"Okay. And what are you apologizing for, anyway?"

She hesitated, stared at him helplessly. Lucivar stared back at her. There was a long silence. He sighed, heavily.

"All right, so what's the matter?"

She shook her head, stubbornly. "Nothing."

"Nothing my ass. I know an upset witch when I see one. So what's wrong? Has someone been bothering you? One of the new males being a prick?"

Wilhelmina closed her mouth tightly and looked down. His gaze was unnervingly direct. He wasn't acting how she expected him to. "I don't want to bother you."

"I wouldn't have asked if it was a bother. Spit it out. Jaenelle will beat the shit out of me if she hears that I'm not taking care of her sister."

Wilhelmina almost flinched, cringing into herself.

"Oh – damn." He sounded – embarrassed. She dared to look at him. He'd knelt to her level, and now he rocked back on his heels and rubbed his forehead with one hand. "Now I've frightened you, right? I forgot you're not one of the coven…"

Wilhelmina twitched. "But that's it! I'm not and nobody likes me and I just don't fit in here and you're all going to send me back I just know it…"

Lucivar rocked back and stared at her, seeming stunned. "Who doesn't like you? I don't know anyone who doesn't like you. And you're not going anywhere.

Wilhelmina sniffed, starting to cry. "Everyone. Aaron and Morghann and Chaosti…and _you _don't like me either," she accused.

A frown. "Aaron and Chaosti look at everyone like that, with the possible exception of sometimes their wives, and the witches…they might be a little overbearing, but they're just afraid of scaring you." He half smiled, and it warmed his eyes a little. "You look like a strong wind might blow you over, and most of the witches are a bit more than a strong wind." A pause, and he got to his feet. "Let me guess. You've heard the stories, I bet. Probably every single one more than once."

Wilhelmina ducked her head, feeling suddenly ashamed. Perhaps it's the weariness in his voice, the dry bitterness in his undertone. He did seem so…well, nice.

"Most of the stories are probably true. But you know nothing of what it was like." He looked back at her, and she had to meet his eyes. Looking away wasn't an option, not with the fury and sadness staring her baldly in the face. "Witches break. It's harder to break males. And they didn't want to, either. It would have ruined their _games_." He snarled.

She stared at him, wide eyed, feeling trapped. "I'm sorry," she whispered, hoarsely.

"I don't kill witches for fun. I killed them because every last one of them was a bitch, a liar, and a pathetic excuse for a witch. I was ashamed to have to serve them. Submitting to them wasn't an option."

Wilhelmina cringed. His voice was so hard and dangerous. "I-didn't realize," she said in a small voice, looking away from him. She heard him sigh.

"Yeah, I know. Just – don't look at me like that, okay? I've had enough of frightened witches to last me a lifetime." A slightly haunted edge to his expression. "And it sets my temper on edge, as well as every other male's. We don't react well to a witch's fear."

"I'm not really a witch," Wilhelmina said, impulsively, "Not like the witches here, I'm not like them. I'm weak and timid and –"

"Liar," he accused her, flatly. She shut her mouth and stared at him, floored.

"What?"

"You're not timid. You're nervous, but you're not timid. If you were timid, you wouldn't have survived as long as you have. Same goes for weak." He paused, tilted his head to the side. "Jaenelle accepted you here. That's all that matters. As soon as you relax and stop twitching at every little noise, you'll be just fine."

Wilhelmina looked down, feeling shamed by his kindness. "It's like I'm – I dunno, marked or something," she whispered. "People don't even want to look at me. I feel like they – like they blame _me _for – for what happened to Jaenelle." She cringed, drew into herself, so used to the blame that she expected him to accuse her as well.

Lucivar sighed and closed his eyes. "Everyone blames themselves for what happened to Jaenelle. You. Me. Saetan. Daemon."

"What's the matter with Daemon?" Wilhelmina asked, boldly. "He's so different and he won't look at me straight…"

"Ah," said Lucivar, and watching his face, she could see his eyes close off, lines settling more deeply on his face, lines of worry and sorrow. "Daemon." He fell silent.

She asked no further. The water was the only sound for a long time.

Lucivar looked back at her. "You better now?"

Wilhelmina nodded, a little, though she wasn't at all sure of that.

His smile was lopsided, dry, almost cautious. "Just show us a backbone. That, we know how to deal with. I know it's there somewhere."

"That's what S-your father said," Wilhelmina said, feeling strange saying that. But it was less strange than saying Saetan. Or the High Lord of Hell. "I guess I can try…"

"You do that." He looked distant. "Not everyone's Jaenelle, Wilhelmina. Comparing isn't fair, but if I were to –" He paused, tilting his head and looking at her. "I can see her in you. She touched you, too. And that means that you belong here." He stood up, his wings rustling, and looked toward the door. "I have to go."

Wilhelmina bit her lip, staring at him, bewildered and more than a little confused. "All right," she said, cautiously.

"I'll see you later, Wilhelmina. And hopefully next time you won't be on the floor." He turned away and paused for a moment. "You know, I think Dejaal's taken a liking to you. And letting him show you around will give you a feel for the place, and you can meet the rest of the kindred."

Wilhelmina's eyes grew very wide. "Really?"

Lucivar smiled his lopsided half smile. "Really. Just ask him. He'd love to show off that he gets to watch one of the Lady's witches. Not many of the kindred do."

Wilhelmina laughed, carefully. Lucivar started for the door, then paused, his hand on the handle.

"I know what it's like to feel that kind of guilt." Then he was gone.

Wilhelmina stared at her hands, straightened, and cautiously sent out a message on a psychic thread.

Dejaal? Do you think I could talk to you?


End file.
